Notes on a Scandal
by twitchytwain
Summary: Its a brand new season in wickedly wild Manhattan so strap on your Gucci sandals and go on a wild ride with the Van der Woodsen twins as they take over Manhattan with dashing boyfriends; Henry Bass and Milo Sparks. Wild and Tame, Naughty and Nice! Fame is fickle unless you have the juiciest scandal! XOXO
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** Serena van der Woodsen never married Dan Humphrey and the twins are a product of an illegitimate affair with a prince of Monaco.

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**1. The Strange Truth About Boys**

**#**

_**"Scandals aren't public if you get there before your enemies"**_

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Whitney slipped on a flimsy black La Perla chemise, the soft silk chiffon whispered on her bare skin; she pulled on the matching briefs then slowly eased each slender leg into a pair of black hold up stockings. She stood in front of the gilt mirror in her bedroom smiling at her reflection, she felt like Elizabeth Taylor in Butterfield 8. It was one of her favorite movies, she'd even given Henry Bass a lighter with B8 engraved on it as homage to the whirl wind romance between Elizabeth Taylor and Laurence Harvey . She strolled across the bedroom in her black Miu Miu patent pumps raking her short manicured nails through her tousled golden curls before pressing into her dress. It was a black Marchesa feather mini dress with crystal embellishing. She seized her pink taffeta trench before exiting the penthouse, everyone else had long gone.

Henry Bass sat in the grand hotel apartment playing with his platinum lighter, he flicked it watching the fire dance between his fingers. He looked at the engraving again, B8 and a slow smile crept across his face. Whitney had given it to him as a private joke, after an evening of champagne and marijuana. It seemed so long ago now but she was still the only thing that made sense to him, especially now when his life was crumbing around him and yet she was the one person he needed to stay away from. He couldn't stand her seeing him like this.

The rapid knock on the door yanked him back into the dim room. Was the room service here already? Camden Archibald had promised him something special to ease his pain. He wandered to the wide polished oak doors tightening the belt of his chunky toffee brown cardigan and pulled them open.

"I hope you don't mind, "she sashayed past him leaving a waft of oriental perfume in her wake. "I brought dinner."

'What are you doing here?' he groaned cowering back into the shadows of the expansive room. She chose to disregard his ludicrous question; Whitney refused to be cast aside from his life all because of some outrageous scandal.

"I got you your favorite," she flicked on the light switch and threw her clutch on the side table littered with orchids. "Lobster Cobb salad and Red velvet cake from the Waldorf"

"I'm not hungry. "He replied nonchalantly lumbering back to the large red velvet sofa to stare vacantly at the amber twilight from the massive wall to wall windows.

"I'm very drunk and I intend on getting drunker still before this evening's over." he blurted reciting Rhett Butler's line. Whitney smiled picking up the crystal decanter filled to the brink with single malt whiskey.

"Perhaps, I can be a better distraction." her red lips curved into a seductive smile as she removed her coat. He didn't say anything but she could feel his brown eyes responding. She slowly unzipped the Marchesa revealing soft silk chiffon.

"Is this the virgin sacrificing herself?" Henry asked his eyes dragging down her svelte body. Whitney was willing to do anything to bring him back from that dark place, anything to take the hurt away. Slowly she slid off the straps, the chemise slithering down her honeyed body until she was wearing nothing but a Tiffany charm bracelet.

"Maybe" she purred sauntering toward him and dipping her head to kiss his lips.

"Put your clothes back on," he jerked his head away from her caressing hand rising from his chair "go home"

"It's too early in the day to be deflowering virgins." He said over his shoulder and Whitney's heart jolted. She didn't know this person; he was a stranger to her now. It was as if some pod people had taken over her boyfriend's body. Her head snapped toward the knock on the door.

"I'll get it." he offered as she put her coat back on tossing her blonde hair over the collar.

"Ola" a statuesque beauty slithered into the room in a black mini dress and nine inch heels." I'm Gabrielle." she purred sizing Henry up.

"Who the heck are you?" Whitney yelled stomping toward the couple.

"She just said, she's Gabrielle." he replied casually glancing at Whitney.

"I know what she just said, Henry. What is she doing here?"

"She's my guest."

"Should I leave?" Gabrielle interjected and Whitney wanted to tear her long luxurious brown hair out but she wouldn't, she couldn't because van der Woodsen girls were much too civilized for at.

"No, Miss van der Woodsen was on her way out." he announced and Whitney stifled back a tear, she refused to give him the satisfaction. She threw her head back hitting the Spanish horse on the face with her hair and stormed out, Marchesa dress and clutch in her hand.

#

The cold sunlight enveloped his library and Willow squirmed beneath the alpaca blanket, she habitually loathed fall but this year was different, this year she had a boyfriend. Yes, a boyfriend and not some fling that lasted a New York minute but an actual relationship. She could hear the trembling leaves outside rustling on the terrace as a frosty wind blew them away.

'How's your book?' she asked Milo who was looking snug in an olive green Pringle sweater and checkered green shirt lying next to her. She pressed herself against him closing her Wuthering Heights_. _It was for an English book report but she found herself enjoying it immensely. It wasn't her typical book; she was more a JD Salinger girl. She preferred serious reading material, something that aroused her intellect. Emily Bronte was frivolous, romantic, drowning in supercilious naivety but Willow found herself strangely immersed in the book. She rubbed her grey cable knit sweater, it felt really warm but not warmer than him, and her boyfriend was hot.

"Really good, have you read Faulkner before?" he smiled. Yes, he was definitely hot but not hot in the Hollywood sense like her sister's Henry Bass, Milo was _cute puppy_ hot and she was crazy about him.

"No, but I have something much more interesting than Faulkner in mind" she cajoled putting his book aside. The sides of his mouth twisted in amusement, he cocked one eye brow and asked,

"What might that be?"

"This…" Her mouth ravaged his, tasting its potent sweetness and drowning in it. Her world turned into a beautiful kaleidoscope every time Milo kissed her, he was intoxicating and she loved the way his lips felt against hers, soft, squishy and moist. She looped her slender arms around his neck pulling him tighter and firmer against her, his body felt warm and his hands felt hot as they stroked her bare lower back.

'Are you staying for dinner?' he murmured his hands creeping underneath her sweater.

'No, I need to go home.'


	2. Chapter 2

**2. Dark Deeds and Shameless Needs**

**_#_**

**_"What happens in the dark must come to light…eventually"_**

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Whitney couldn't go home, not now. She wandered around the Upper East Side, shoulders hunched and chin tucked into her coat until she found herself in a cab heading to the one place where she knew she could find clarity.

Brooklyn.

Milo Sparks.

The cab slowed and came to a halt outside the brownstone apartment building. Gathering her things, she mounted the steep staircase through the throng of naked light bulbs swinging above her head. Hammering on the thick door, she waited until she could wait no more, and pounded her fist against the wood again. Finally, the door flew open and Milo was standing there, raking his dark shaggy bangs from his forehead.

"You just missed her, "he said rolling his grey eyes at the sight of the blonde with flushed cheeks.

"I'm not here for my sister" Whitney insisted, shoving her way into his candlelit apartment. She could still smell Willow's cloying scent of vanilla and chocolate in the room.

"Can't afford the light bill?" she said, her eyes darting around the dishevelled apartment to the mess of tousled blankets, Congolese takeout and books scattered on the table "Performing a séance, perhaps?"

"Clearly it worked, "he simpered cocking his head "Here you are. What do you want, Whitney?"

"I need you to stop her," she said evaluating the grimy pile of dishes in the sink "I need you to stop Gossip girl"

"Seriously, you took a cab all the way from cushy Upper East Side to ask me to stop Gossip girl because for some inconceivable notion, I might know her…sorry, him?" he chuckled scratching head, ruffling the thick tangle of dark hair.

"Point A, Uncle Dan is way too old and busy, let's not forget busy to concern himself with the raging lunacy that is Upper East Side teendom" he rattled the ice inside his glass starring down into it.

"Point B, the faculties of being gossip girl are not generic so they are not likely to be passed down from one generation to the next which is why I cannot be gossip girl or more likely, gossip_ guy"_

"More likely, gossip Queen" she corrected him with a glint in her blue eyes "anyway, Dan Humphrey is not your father"

"I know, consequently I was referring to the era when my mother took the illustrious gossip girl throne" he grinned rolling an ice cube in his mouth before grinding it down with his teeth. Whitney winced glaring up at him. The Rubik puzzle that was Milo Sparks never seemed to amaze her. He was slightly older than the rest of her cluster of friends but the startling contrast of his tanned skin and light grey eyes made him look immortal like some Russian tsar in the many books Willow was so obsessed about.

"Point A, teendom is not an actual word, "she watched the shrug roll off his gangly shoulders "and B, I don't care. I need you to save Henry Bass"

"Why me?"

"Because it's in your blood, you're Dan Humphrey's adopted son and the son of the biggest snake in the Upper East Side"

"Watch it, "he smirked unbuttoning his shirt "where is he anyway, uncle Jack's been looking for him" he flung the shirt over the rumpled mattress "actually everybody's been looking for him"

Whitney shook her head, willing the distraction of his gleaming tanned torso out of her head before she could reply, "He's holed up at the Plaza"

"And how is our little Eloise doing?"

"Will you stop with all your sass and sarcasm? Contrary to what you might believe, it's not cute"

"I hate to disappoint you princess but you can't go on a rampant witch-hunt, not when everyone in the Upper East Side _is_ the witch"

"What are you talking about?"

"There's is no gossip girl everybody is gossip girl. Welcome to the new millennium, welcome to the apocalypse "

"So the post on the website…"

"It could have been anybody"

"Then we shut down the site, "she thrust her chin up at him, getting closer to his face and those eyes "If there's no site, there's no gossip girl"

"Clearly your sister got the brains in the family, have you ever heard of guerrilla movements princess? Vigilantes, freedom fighters? Well, that's what gossip girl is, gossip girl is a movement. It's bigger than both of us" he scanned her face before he finished the last of his vodka.

"Nothing is bigger than me" Whitney called as Milo turned on his heel to head to the small refrigerator.

"Great, do you mind playing the communist somewhere else?" he picked up a fresh bottle of chilled vodka then sauntered back toward her, his swarthy abs sleek in the candlelight.

"What, do you need to iron your corduroy?"

"Actually yes, so if you don't mind" he said with a hand on her elbow as he ushered her out of the apartment. Whitney stumbled into the hallway, turning around to glare at him with blazing blue eyes.

"What's the big damn scandal anyway?" he said casually leaning against the door, one hand swirling the bottle of vodka, the other fussing with his bangs again.

"Chuck Bass is not Henry's father"

#

"What do you know, another Van der Woodsen sister here to kill my buzz"

"Shut up, Bass" Willow ordered, stalking into the hotel suit and sizing up its contents before bolting for the bar. Hastily, she poured herself a stiff drink then lifted the glass while looking at him over the rim.

"Can I offer you a drink, arsenic perhaps?" he quirked, slamming the door before strolling back to the safety on his velvet couch "How may I be of assistance?"

"It smells like sex in here" she said drinking thirstily before pouring herself another hefty shot.

"Good news, your sister's virginity is still intact." He said smugly, legs sprawled on the couch" The bad news is that I kinda cheated" he added, tracing a thumb around the rim of his glass, his head propped on his arm.

"I don't care" she replied stiffly draining her second glass as she removed her hot sweater. Her skin tingled from the sudden warmth of the room, she wasn't sure if it was the heat or her strong hatred for Henry that made her boil. His looks were a sharp contrast to his character, his beautiful alabaster skin and warm coffee coloured eyes belied the devil within him.

"She doesn't care" Henry laughed clapping his hands with a flourish

"I need a score" she said reaching up to toss her hair, trying to match his casual demeanour but her hand was too unsteady and she couldn't hide her nerves.

"She needs a score!" he laughed heartily exposing the azure veins on his neck "What, Sparks is not curing you of your demons? Is he not _medicating _you hard enough?'

"Don't bring Milo into of this" Willow narrowed her eyes, shooting daggers at him.

"You know, me and you are the same Wills. You're your mother's daughter, a drug addicted strumpet and I'm my father's son, a bastard" Henry chuckled rocking to his feet and striding toward her.

"Whitney's too good for you" she graced him with an acerbic smile as Henry closed the gap between them.

"I suppose Sparks is too…_whatever_… for you too" he said calmly, his dark eyes roving her heart shaped face and lingering on the raging blue eyes that were too large and too wide for her petit face.

"You're the devil's spawn" she snarled, her hatred for him surging through every thriving nerve in her body. Willow blamed him for her debauchery and her seedy addictions. She resented her sister for loving him but she also wanted him. His madness fascinated her. She wanted to follow him into his darkness; she wanted to follow him anywhere.

"I like you too, my little willow tree" he brought his hand up to tug a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"I don't even know why I came here, "she spat grabbing her purse and set out for the door.

"To score, I believe" he yelled waving a bag of red pills around "I guess the Bass devil was calling your name while you were _under_ the Milo Sparks angel yet again. "

"You're disgusting" she stated, eyes narrowing as she glared back at him. She swallowed, eyes looking at the pills then back to him. Her feet carried her toward him much to his obvious amusement.

"I know" Henry whispered growling against her quivering neck before licking her pink cheek. He grabbed her jaw and forced her to look up at him. Willow shuddered as he chased her to the wall, pinning her against it before she spit back at him. He seized her face firmly with both hands and kissed her. His fingers teased the buttons of her jeans and she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his pants.

"Tell me to stop my little willow tree," he said gruffly, his heartbeat threatening to shatter his ribcage "tell me to stop and I will"

"Don't you dare" she growled before a whimper escaped her lips, she locked her lengthy legs around his waist and dragged him down to the floor with her. And just like that they chased and crashed into Henry's bed, Willow knew she'd loath herself in the morning as she always did after sleeping with him but she didn't care.


	3. Chapter 3

**It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend**

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Blaring sunlight stung his eyes as he turned in the big sprawling bed. Henry untangled himself from the sheets, pausing briefly when he felt the dip in the bed. He groaned recalling his impassioned night with Willow. Glancing over his shoulder, he realized that she was still there, in his bed. Her closeness suddenly unnerved him as it always did in the cold light of day. He was toying with the malicious idea of leaving her in the suite when he paused, relishing the faint freckles dusting her golden shoulders, streaming down to her perfect back. He'd never seen those before, he mused wondering if his Whitney shared the same trait as her wild sister. Curiosity seized him as he pondered how far her beguiling freckles spread. Slowly, without wanting to disturb her, Henry lifted the white sheets and feasted his eyes on her glorious form.

Willow unfurled from her foetal position and rolled onto her back. His eyes caught the line of scars on her wrist, lingering on a fresh one. Suddenly Henry thought how marred she was, inside and out. Her radiant eyes sprang open, instantly awake as she yowled in shock.

"Good morning," Henry simpered winking down at her.

"Bass," she croaked springing to her feet and yanking the bed sheet for cover.

"Really?" he smirked rolling his eyes.

"This never happened" she contended gathering her clothes littered on the floor around the bed. Frantic, she dressed hastily, squeezing into her dirty McQueen jeans and tee-shirt.

"Deal, "he said smugly studying his buffed nails "until next time"

"There won't be a next time" she shook her head vehemently tying her hair into a sloppy bun.

"Let's agree to disagree" he clasped his hands behind his head leaning against the pile of down pillows propped against the tall headboard.

"My sister is in love with you for some stupefying reason and I cannot keep doing this to her"

"You're not doing anything to your sister but you are doing _plenty_ to me"

"Pig!"

"Are we starting with the foreplay again? Because I'm still exhausted from last night"

"Do you even love Whit?"

"Do you?" he snarled, vaulting an eyebrow at her.

"Go to hell, "she yelled, stomping out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

"I'm already there sweetheart" Henry groaned to himself picking up the hotel telephone on the nightstand.

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"Miss Van der Woodsen, "the burly doorman greeted and Willow gave a rushed grunt as she ducked through the revolving doors, striding into the marble floor foyer of the pre-war apartment building.

"Mr Archibald!"

Willow cried grasping the elevator doors as the man tumbled out of the upholstered lift. Hastily, she stood aside to let him pass.

"Willow" he smiled clearing his throat and tugging clumsily at his tie. He was handsome, shaggy sandy hair that he was raking back with unsteady hands.

"What are you doing here? It's barely ten in the morning"

"I was dropping something off for your mother"

"Really?" she scanned him with narrowed eyes.

"I'm still working on that summer internship" he blurted and Willow nodded tucking a stray hair behind her ears. She had mentioned something about a job at the New York spectator in July when their families had gotten together for July fourth fireworks. That was also the first time she had kissed Camden Archibald, her bestfriend's brother. A month later, they had broken up-the sad story of her life.

"Well, uhm take care" he hesitated before he pat her back gracelessly. Willow's sixth sense shot straight up and directed her to the possibility of a torrid affair between her mother and Nate Archibald.

Remnants of a continental breakfast, Sunday papers and Casablanca lilies were scattered all over the table when she entered her home. She could still smell Mr N's spicy cologne mixed with scent of warm waffles and syrup.

"There you are, "her mother exclaimed bursting in from the upstairs bedrooms, she climbed down the spiral staircase in teetering PRADA heels.

"Where have you been?" she asked tightening the strings around her silk dressing gown "I was worried sick about you"

"That's new," Willow rolled her eyes, shoving past her mother as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

"You could try and act like a daughter"

"You could try and _be_ a mother" she yelled before running off into her room and slamming the door behind her. Like her mother before, Serena Van der Woodsen had been a habitual dater who married and divorced men like they were trends on the runway. She loathed her mother. Willow ached, every bone and every muscle as she stood under the shower washing Henry's smell off her body.

She truly was her mother's daughter.

#

Camden Archibald flashed that spellbinding dimpled smile of his that rendered all the girls senseless, blind to his true devious nature.

All of Manhattan was smoke and mirrors.

"You can always talk to me" he said stroking Whitney's hand, her skin glowing and golden against his darker olive tan. He owed this delicious tone to his mother, Whitney assumed as his mother was the infamous film director, Vanessa Abrahams but his eyes and his muddy blonde hair were all Archibald heirlooms.

"You're adorable" he turned her hand over, kissing her palm "Henry's lucky to have you"

"Cam, "Whitney blushed, playing with the awareness of his warm mouth pressed sweetly against her cold palm. Camden always loved to test the waters, check to see how far he could take their flirtation but Whitney never let it get too far. She always roped the dirty blonde haired rake in.

Out of nowhere, there was Emsley Humphrey, dashing around tables almost running toward them. Whitney's heart raced, snatching her hand back from Camden. She pressed her hands down her white Chanel tweed dress, grinning up at her bestfriend.

"Hi Em,"

"Whitney, "she nodded before she leaned in to kiss Camden "Hi baby" she purred before slipping her hands into her pockets. Emsley's fitted white jodhpurs made her look less petit than usual. Whitney accounted it to her brief holiday in London with her dad scoffing down endless fish and chips.

"We were just discussing Henry's isolation" Whitney informed her while Camden pulled out a chair for the blonde.

"I read gossip girl this morning" Emsley offered lacing her fingers with Camden's.

"He's locked himself up at the Plaza," Whitney continued, sipping her champagne and wrinkled her nose as a rush of bubbles tickled her freckled nose.

"Do you think it's true?"

"Of course not Emsley! Henry is a Bass, every single inch of him"

Emsley opened her mouth to add something but retracted to merely thumb through the brunch menu. Whitney watched the couple; Emsley ruffled Camden's hair and kissed his cheek. Her mind was racing with this new possibility, this idea that Henry Bass could not be a Bass after all. Whitney wondered how she would hope with that reality, how that would affect her future. In her mind, it had always been Bass and Van der Woodsen, mated even before she was born.

Quickly she snapped back into reality, just as Camden Archibald winked at her.

#

Whitney was curled up in her big expansive bed surfing through TV channels when her mobile phone vibrated on the nightstand, she peered at the screen and her heart jolted when she saw the name flashing.

"Milo Sparks" she feigned a groan, rolling her eyes.

"There is one other way to deflect from a scandal" he said not bothering with a greeting.

"How so?" her pulse rate hurried, she discarded the remote.

"To find another scandal, your friend Camden for instance"

"I won't hurt my friends, especially not Cam"

"He's uncle, Tripp van der Bilt is a governor and Cam is running a prostitution ring"

"I don't see your point" she knew that she didn't sound as shocked as she should have been but she had longed suspected Camden of devious business activities and it explained the girl in Henry's hotel. She reminded herself that Henry didn't need someone else passing hookers onto him, he could do that himself.

"You got to sacrifice one for the other Whitney the Pooh, Manhattan is a chessboard, remember?"

"Don't call me that, "she stammered, her mind reeling with how she was going to get around to betraying her friends.

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	4. Chapter 4

**4. The Inglorious Bastard**

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"_**A company of wolves is better than a company of wolves in sheep's clothing'**_

_**#**_

Henry's eyes drifted to the nannies juggling screaming kids around a sea of strollers, dog walkers toddling through the park. In Manhattan, Polish nannies were ubiquitous but there was only one Dorota. He hated the traffic, hated feeling trapped for long periods of time. Glancing back down at his watch, he popped another one of his pink pills, washing it with a hefty shot of bourbon.

His mobile phone beeped, an annoying tone he knew too well, it was another gossip girl blast. Henry hesitated, his heart hammering against his chest. Tugging nervously on the lapels of his black Burberry coat, he snatched the phone from his seat and slid it open.

"_We hear it's the end of a Bass fairy-tale, will the original queen B finally reveal that prince Bass is actually, prince Bastard?"_

He slammed the phone shut again. Inhaling deeply, he winced in pain. She had bruised his body again. Willow always knew how to leave her mark, he thought chuckling. They didn't fuck, they fought, and it was always a power struggle to see who had the bigger balls. Henry told himself that she was just a casual indulgence, something he partook in on occasion like cocaine or the debauched threesomes paid for Uncle Jack and daddy.

#

Climbing out of the dark town car, Henry turned up the collar of his coat and tucked his hands in his pockets. He jogged through the tossing wind to the massive glass doors. A short while later, he was outside is mother's office fixing his gaze on Anastasia, Dorota's daughter and his mother's secretary. Henry's eyes traced the girl's long legs, she was twenty six at the most which meant that she was at least nine years older than Henry but he had a thing for older women. It was an old Bass illness. This one was particularly grating with her whiny voice and simpering mannerisms but still she was practically family. He smiled affably with her, dashing off with a wicked wink before tumbling into is mother's office.

"Henry!"

Stunned, Blair hoisted herself up from the chair as she beckoned him inside the office. She smiled radiantly, tilting her head up at her son. Henry knew that smile, she wore it like a mask but he could always read the suffering behind it. She looked frail and done in, the obvious toll of the pending divorce was apparent on her.

'I missed you" she said throwing her arms around him. Henry tightened his grip around her before letting go, holding her at arm's length.

"Are you ok?" she asked softly as she settled behind her desk again. Insipid autumn sunlight flooded her office turning everything a golden yellow.

'You look beautiful mom," he assured her, smiling at her across the massive desk and hoping against hope that his performance conveyed enough sincerity.

"Always the charmer, my Henry" she said with pained cheerfulness "I know why you're here honey" she smiled squeezing his hand. A wave of longing for his parents and the life he once had swept over Henry and he clenched his fist, forging a broad grin for his mother.

"Who's my father?"

Startled she lifted her gaze to him, pushed out her chair and walked to the window behind her desk. "Henry, we both know that gossip girl is slanderous gossip" she finally said not looking at him.

"Funny thing, gossip girl reported on your divorce even before I was made aware of it"

"Chuck is your father" she announced, tossing her dark hair back over her shoulders as she swung around to face him. Barely daring to breath, Henry studied her face carefully.

"Only I can't ask him, because nobody knows where he is" he fixed his gaze on her, stalking her as she paced the expansive office "Have you heard from him?"

"No, that's one thing you two have in common, you both know how to hide very well"

"So I can't get a paternity test"

"You don't need one. Honey this is crazy, you have a father and his name is Chuck Bass" she soothed and he listened.

"Henry, you are a legitimate Bass, "she thrust out her determined chin, "you can trust me on that"

Blair sat quietly studying the door after her son had left. She blew out an exasperated breath, drumming her nails against thick desk before she snatched up the phone, eyes now fixed on Henry's photo on her desk.

"Anna, get a hold of the pilot, tell him to prepare the jet'

#

Outside, the sun had a stinging bite as Henry trampled in the congested sidewalks, his feet chasing fallen russet leaves. As he approached the black car, chin tucked in his wool coat; he noticed that someone was already seated in the backseat. Slowly, he crept toward the car looking out for his chauffer. He squinted trying to see beyond the headrest. Moving closer to the window, the figure moved. Henry stalled as he open the door, a man in a dark coat shoved his hand out to greet him.

"Henry, I don't believe we've met,' he grinned "Allow me to introduce myself, the name's Carter Baizen"

#

"_Spotted, an inglorious bastard prince meandering around the Upper East Side, seems our little prince has finally come out of hiding! Hold on to your heads girls, we know how Henry gets when he's in a quarrel" _

Milo snapped the phone back shut as he buttoned his shearling jacket, pulling on his sheepskin gloves. He held a hand over his eyes, sizing up the approaching town car.

"Uncle Dan, "he greeted crawling into the backseat next to the dark haired gentleman in tweeds and flannel. He liked to dress just like Hemmingway since his return from an Australian adventure, Milo thought, eyes scanning Dan Humphrey. He wanted to be acknowledged as a serious novelist, bordering on method writing so lately he became whatever character he was writing about at the time.

"I hear you've been seeing one of the Van der Woodsen twins"

"Gossip girl?"

"Serena" he smiled forgivingly "Whitney is lovely and kind, a bit –"

"Whitney is frigid and colourless"

"So it's the other twin, the more _colourful_ one?" he arched an eyebrow, a smile teasing his lips.

"Yes, Uncle D, It's the other _Boleyn_ girl" Milo rolled his eyes and offered a smile, a lopsided grin that had garnered the attentions of one Van Woodsen twin. Dan dropped his head, chuckling softly.

"Have you heard about the Bass affair?" Milo tried to change the subject.

"The Bass affair, I try and keep out of salacious gossip Milo" Dan replied looking out of the window as if he was searching for something.

"Funny, I thought that's the reason you came back to Manhattan"

"I'm not following up on Blair Waldorf's divorce"

"I was referring to Uncle Chuck's disappearance "

"It's what Bass's do Milo, they either run or hide. They 've never really had the stomach to fight for what they want-not when it comes to love, anyway."

"And the Humphrey's?'

"Well…" Dan trailed off still starring out the window "I came back to Manhattan for Thayer" his voice caught before he could clear his throat.

"Thayer Burke's in town?" Milo's brows flew up. Dan nodded, eyes still locked to the windy Manhattan streets. Milo groaned and sank into his seat. Thayer Burke was Dan's son with Olivia Burke, a big Hollywood actress. Thayer was another bastard with a chip on his shoulder from what Milo could remember about him. He didn't think that the Upper East Side was ready for another bastard, one Bass was enough.

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End file.
